Rise of a Merchant Prince (19 page)

“Luck is when those who are prepared take advantage of the moment,” answered Grindle.

Roo shrugged, trying hard to look modest and failing.

Grindle turned toward the rear of the house and called, “Karli!''

After a moment the girl appeared. “Yes, Father?”

“Karli, I've given young Avery here leave to pay court to you. He will come to escort you out next Sixthday eve.”

Karli looked at her father, then Roo, uncertainty etched on her features. She hesitated, than said, “Yes, Father.”

Looking at Roo, she said, “Sixthday, then, sir.”

Roo sat awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
Then he nodded, saying, “After the noon meal.”

The girl fled through the curtains at the rear of the room, and Roo wondered if he should have said something pleasant, such as he looked forward to it, or she looked attractive in her gown. He shook off the irritation that this uncertainty brought, and counseled himself to quiz his cousin Duncan on what to say to the girl, then returned to matters at hand.

Grindle poured them both a stiff drink of sweet wine and said, “Now tell me how you did this, my boy. Every step of the way.”

Roo smiled, basking in the approval written in Grindle's eyes as he beamed at Roo, occasionally looking down at the necklace.

Roo pointed.

“I see Greylock!” he said.

Erik, Jadow, Duke James, Robert de Loungville, and Knight-Marshal William waited upon the royal dock as
Trenchard's Revenge
was approaching the waiting party. Anxious eyes scanned the distant ship, looking for those other members of Calis's company who might have somehow survived the Emerald Queen's attack on the distant city of Maharta.

“Easy to see that grey streak,” said Roo, shading his eyes against the bright afternoon sun. In the last month, since he had become veritable partners with Helmut Grindle, Roo had been too busy to think overly long on his former companions, but when Erik had sent word that the other ship from Novindus was sighted coming across the harbor's outer boundary, he left Duncan to oversee the loading of wagons for a short trip up the coast to Sarth, and hurried to see the ship put in. Like Erik, he felt the loss of those other men who had endured the hardship of that long voyage across the sea two years before. Then he saw
a familiar figure near Greylock, and he shouted, “Luis! It's Luis!”

Jadow said, “You're right, man. It's that foul-tempered Rodezian mother-lover or I'm a priest of Sung.”

Roo waved and Greylock and Luis waved in return. Then the mood darkened as Roo realized there were no other members of his company on deck. As if sensing his boyhood friend's thoughts, Erik said, “Maybe some of them are ill belowdecks.”

“Maybe,” agreed Roo, but his tone revealed he had little hope that was true.

Time passed slowly as the ship came closer to the royal docks. Unlike Admiral Nicholas, the captain of the
Revenge
seemed disinclined to ignore the prerogatives of the Harbor-master and his pilots, so the ship slowed until it was close enough to the docks to be towed by longboat, then hauled into place.

As soon as the gangplank was run out, Greylock and Luis came down. Greylock saluted Duke James and Knight-Marshal William, while Luis, Jadow, Erik, and Roo all slapped each other on the back, weeping unashamedly at the sight of one another.

Then something odd about Luis struck Roo and he said, “Your hand?”

Luis wore a long-sleeved jacket and black gloves. The former Rodezian courtier turned murderer lifted his right sleeve, letting it fall away. His right hand was fixed in a half-claw, the fingers unmoving. A moment of regret shown in his eyes, but all he said was “Buy me a drink and I'll tell you about it.”

“Done!” said Erik, then turned to de Loungville. “If you don't need us right now, Sergeant?”

De Loungville nodded. “Don't get too drunk. I
need you and Jadow clearheaded tomorrow. And bring Luis back with you. I'll have a few questions for him, and there's the matter of his official pardon.”

“Pardon?” said Luis. “I remember the Captain saying something but doubted he'd get it done.”

“Come along,” said Roo. “We'll tell you about it and try to keep you from getting hung by the city watch before tomorrow.”

Erik said, “Master Greylock, it's good to see you.”

“I'll be around,” answered the former Swordmaster of the Baron of Darkmoor. “We can catch up tomorrow.” A momentary sadness passed over his face. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Erik nodded. Obviously, he had news about those who hadn't survived the sack of Maharta or the exodus to the City of the Serpent River.

The reunited members of Calis's company were quickly free of the royal docks, and Erik led them to an inn close by often used by soldiers from the palace. Erik suspected that every employee of the inn was in the Prince's service; de Loungville had made it clear he preferred his men to frequent the inn of the Broken Shield rather than others farther into the city proper. As the drink was decent for the money, the women were friendly and agreeable, and it was close enough to visit without neglecting his duties at the palace, Erik was satisfied to give the inn his business.

Since it was early in the afternoon, business was light Erik signaled to the barman for a round of ales, and as they sat, Roo asked, “Luis, what happened to you? We thought you lost crossing the river.”

Calis's company had been forced to swim across the mouth of the Vedra River to reach the city of
Maharta, each man fully armed, and many had not reached the far shore. Luis rubbed his chin with his good hand.

“I nearly was,” he said, his Rodezian accent lending an oddly musical quality to his words. “Cramped up just a few yards short of that little island you all crawled onto before you continued on, and by the time I got my head back above water, I'd been swept south of it So I tried to reach the far shore and started cramping again after a while.”

He shook his head, and suddenly Roo realized how much older he looked. A man of not yet middle years, he now had noticeable grey in his hair and mustache. He let out a long sigh as the bar man set pewter jacks of ale before them. He drank deeply and continued. “I didn't wait when the second cramp hit I dropped my shield and sword, pulled my belt knife, and started cutting off armor. When I could get above water again, I was half-drowned, and I didn't know where I was.

“The sky was dark and all I knew was I didn't have much left. I saw a boat and swam for it” He held up his ruined right hand. “That's how I got this. I reached out for the gunwale and got a hold of it, when a fisherman smashed it with an oar.”

Erik visibly winced and Roo said, “Gods!”

“I must have shouted,” said Luis. “I blacked out and should have drowned, but someone hauled me in, as I came to on a boat full of refugees, sailing out into the open sea.”

“How did you get to the City of the Serpent River?” asked Roo.

Luis told his story, about the desperate fishing folk who sailed past the warships heading after those
fleeing the harbor proper, ignoring the little boats that were fleeing the estuary near the city. “We started taking on water,” he said, looking off into space as he remembered. “We landed a day northeast of the city, and those of us not inclined to trust their future to the sea went ashore. They repaired the boat, I suppose, or they were taken captive by the invaders. I didn't stay around long enough to find out”

He sighed. “I owed someone there my life and never did find out who it was who pulled me out and why. We were all brothers and sisters in misery.” He held out his hand. “Besides, this was starting to throb and puff up, black and angry.”

“How did you fix it?” asked Roo.

“I didn't. I considered cutting it off, truth to tell, it hurt so much by the third day, and I was sweating from the fever. I tried the reiki Nakor taught us, and it helped the pain, but it didn't keep me from burning up. But the next day I found this camp with a priest of some order I've never heard of. He couldn't magic it, but he did bathe it, then wrapped it in a poultice of leaves and herbs. Gave me something to drink that broke the fever.” He was silent a moment, then said, “He told me it would take some powerful healing magic to restore my hand, the kind the temples charge a lifetime's gold to undertake, and he also said it would be a chance thing; it might not take.” Luis shrugged. “As I am unlikely ever to have the wealth needed, I will never know.”

He pushed his now empty ale jack away and said, “So now I am here, and as I understand it, a soon to be pardoned and freed man, and I must consider my future.”

Erik signaled for another round of ale. “We all
faced that.”

“If you don't have any plans,” Roo said, “I could use a man with a good head and some familiarity in dealing with people of importance.”

Luis said, “Really?”

Erik laughed. “Our friend has realized his ambition and is currently working hard at marrying the ugly daughter of the rich merchant”

Jadow fixed Roo with a narrow gaze. “You're not taking liberties with that tender child, are you?”

Roo held up his hands in mock defense. “Never.” He shook his head. “Fact is, she appeals to me little more than you do, Jadow. She's a nice enough girl. Very quiet. Not as ugly as I imagined, really, and there's a hint of something when she manages a smile, but right now I'm fighting a two-front battle.”

“Oh, this sounds desperate,” offered Erik.

“Well, I'm trying to be as capable as I can, to impress her father, but the girl knows I'm about to be hand-picked to marry her, and I don't think she's happy about it.”

“Make her happy,” offered Luis.

“How?”

“Court her as much as you're obviously courting her father,” said the Rodezian. “Bring her small gifts and talk to her of something besides business.”

Roo blinked, and it was obvious to those at the table that this thought had never occurred to him. “Really?”

The other three men laughed and after they were finished, Luis said, “Who else made it?”

Erik lost his smile, and Jadow's grin faded to a scowl.

“Not many,” said Roo.

Erik said, “The Captain and the sergeant. Nakor and Sho Pi. Those of us here, and a few others from some of the other squads, but of our original six, only we three.” He indicated Roo, Luis, and himself.

Jadow said, “That's better than the rest of us.” They all nodded. Jadow's original company had perished in a holding action with the Saaur while he carried word to the Captain, and he lost his other companions during the final battle at Maharta.

“Tell him about Biggo,” suggested Roo, and Erik told Luis about the last of their squad to die. By the time he finished, they were smiling again.

“I swear he looked surprised. After all that talk about the Goddess of Death and how pious he was,” Erik said, “and this and that, he looked as if . . .

“What?” asked Roo, who hadn't been there but had heard the story before.

“As if he was saying”—Erik lowered his voice to sound like Biggo's—” ‘Oh,
this
is what it's like!' “ He widened his eyes in mock astonishment.

The others chuckled. After the next round was served, Luis picked up his jack of ale and said, “To absent companions.”

They drank and for a moment were silent.

“What are you two doing?” asked Luis.

“We're helping the Captain build his army,” said Jadow. “Erik and me are corporals.”

Erik removed a small book from within his tunic. “Though they have us doing some odd things.”

Luis picked up the book and looked at the spine. “Keshian?” he asked.

Erik nodded. “Not that hard to learn to read after you learn to speak it. But it's slow going. I never was the reader Roo was when we were boys.”

“What is it?” asked Roo.

“An ancient book on warfare, from the Lord William's library,” Jadow said. “I read it last week. This week he's got me reading something called
The Development of Effective Lines of Supply in Hostile Territory
by some Quegan lord or another.”

Luis seemed impressed. “Sounds like they're making a couple of generals out of you.”

“I don't know about that, but it matches what Natombi told us when we were on the march in Novindus,” said Erik.

Luis nodded. Natombi had been another of their company, but he had come from the heart of Kesh and had served with the Inner Legion, the most effective army in the history of Great Kesh, one that had conquered more than two thirds of the continent of Triagia. He had spent many hours talking to Erik about the manner in which the ancient legions deployed their forces and fought their many campaigns. Given the close quarters of their tiny six-man tent, Luis and Roo had heard every one of those conversations, save when they were serving guard duty.

Jadow said, “We're building an army like none seen before.” He lowered his voice. “And you know why?”

Luis half laughed and shook his head. “Better than you do, I think.” He glanced from face to face. “I only got away from their advanced units by minutes a half-dozen times. And I watched as they butchered those trying to get away.” He closed his eyes a second. “I'm a hard man, or so I thought, but I saw things down there I couldn't imagine. I've heard sounds I can't get out of my ears, and I've smelled odors that linger in the nose no matter how
much spice you burn or wine you drink.”

The mood was now somber, and after a quiet minute, Roo said, “Well, yes, we know what's going on. Still, we have to get on with our lives. Do you want to work with me?”

Luis shrugged. “Doing what?”

“I need someone with court manners who can present certain goods to men and ladies of breeding, nobility even. And who can negotiate prices.”

Luis shrugged. “I've never been much of one to haggle, but if you show me what you want, I think I can do this.”

Conversation ceased as the front door opened and Robert de Loungville entered, a slender girl at his side. The four men at the table regarded the unlikely pair: the short, stocky, and pugnacious sergeant, and the almost frail but attractive young woman. She wore common clothing, a homespun dress and simple shoes. Other than unusually short hair, her appearance was unremarkable.

But Erik's face showed he recognized her. “Kitty?” he said.

De Loungville held up his hand. “This is my fiancée Katherine, and if any of you murdering scum so much as look at her in a way to cause her to blush, I'll have your liver on a stick.”

He said this with a casual tone, but his eyes clearly instructed the men: there is something going on you do not need to know anything about; and wise men heeded even the vaguest warnings. The girl looked irritated at being referred to as de Loungville's fiancée but said nothing.

He took the girl to the barman and spoke to him. He nodded and directed the girl toward the kitchen.
She threw one last black look at de Loungville, then went into the kitchen.

De Loungville returned to the table and pulled up a chair. “She's going to work here. So if one of you lot causes her
any
trouble . . .” He let the threat go unfinished.